


won't you tell me to stay?

by silverkatana



Category: SECHSKIES (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, when things don't work out anymore, winter mood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-23
Updated: 2018-12-23
Packaged: 2019-09-25 10:45:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17119895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silverkatana/pseuds/silverkatana
Summary: ... but good things have a way of coming to an end.(in the cold white of winter, they part.)





	won't you tell me to stay?

Jiwon is dressed in all black, from the winter coat that hugs his frame to his laced-up winter boots. He looks a little like the Grim Reaper, Jaijin surmises as he observes the man out of the corner of his eye, but the very handsome version of one.

 

The silence between them is deafening, roaring loud in his ears. A snowflake lands on his cheek, white and pure and perfect, and as it melts it slips down his skin like a lonely pearl tear, leaving its mark on his flushed cheeks like half-erased chalk on a board. He tugs his own coat, heather-grey in colour, a little tighter around his own body as he watches his breath escape in visible clouds against the icy air. 

 

At this point, he cannot tell whether it is the cold of the winter breeze that renders both his heart and mind numb, or if it is the way that both his mind and heart are racing too much and are too full of messy thoughts and messy emotions that he has turned numb to the frigid temperatures.

 

It is dawn, one of his favourite times - usually he’d be out running or spending time by himself, but it’s far too cold and slippery to be out running after the sudden snowfall the night before, and he finds himself standing opposite from Jiwon with all the words he’s always wanted to say stuck unforgivingly somewhere in his chest near where his heart rests.

 

A watery ray of sunlight drifts across the diluted blue sky, casting their thin and flickering shadows onto the ground. Jaijin wonders why he feels so weak and so cold, so unlike himself - perhaps it’s because of how his sleep (or lack thereof) during the night was anything but restful and restorative, his mind slipping between nightmare and reality so seamlessly and so many times over that by the time morning came he no longer could differentiate his own predicament from the scenarios that have played through his troubled mind about a million times over during his attempts to sleep.

 

He tries to part his lips, but they feel dry and cracked and they sting in the biting wind, and no words escape him. Jiwon is standing opposite from him, with that same conflicted expression that he is trying to hide under a mask of indifference, and he can feel his throat going raw as he tries to flush away the emotions that arise from deep within him.

 

Out in the open at dawn on a day in the middle of January, the bridge above frozen water where no one else is insane enough to go, they stand there in mournful colours of black and grey, where the faintest flickers of dying light kiss the pure white setting and cast little golden trails across translucent cracks of ice before retreating behind sombre woollen clouds that trudge along the stretch of pale cerulean overtones and silver-grey undertones that is the winter sky, where the snowflakes turn to water against his cheeks and run down his skin like the tears that he’s kept contained away, where a dead silence settles so thick between them like dust atop a table that has not been touched for two centuries that everything else seems like it is humming with life and light.

 

It is the most agonizing thing that he has ever known.

 

The silence is so unbearable it is almost  _ begging _ to be broken, and yet neither of them can bring themselves to breathe a single word, make the tiniest of sounds, and as the quietude stretches on Jaijin feels as though he is breaking apart one piece at a time, a crystal cracking and disintegrating into discarded shards, from his mind that has been overwhelmed by too many thoughts to his heart that cries out for him to stop this sadness some way, somehow, to his soul that feels as though it’s being ripped apart with every passing millisecond.

 

In their moments of silence, the bridge between them, longer and harder to cross than the one that they are standing upon, becomes achingly clear. Jaijin wonders if Jiwon can see it too, the way that too much has driven them apart. Jiwon always has a way of understanding him, even if he doesn’t say it aloud - he wonders if it is the same today.

 

Jiwon speaks.

 

His voice is soft amongst the stirrings of falling snow and his own too-loud heartbeat, but Jaijin can pick up every syllable loud and clear, as though Jiwon were speaking into a megaphone or whispering the words directly into his ears, or perhaps it’s because he’s been so desperate to hear Jiwon speak in the silence that he’s been listening so hard for any noise from him that his head is beginning to hurt. 

 

It is the most beautiful sound that he has ever heard.

 

Jiwon’s voice flows like velvet, dripping saccharine honey into his willing eardrums, wrapping him up once again in that sticky-sweet web that caught him all those days ago, and for a moment Jaijin wishes he could close his eyes and rest in this cocoon forever, holding onto the golden threads that connect the two of their souls, hiding away from the rest of the world and watching the bridges that separate them burning to ashes behind them.

 

“Can I kiss you?” Jiwon queries, voice low and shaky but reverberating so clearly in Jaijin’s head.

 

His answer comes in the form of Jaijin’s lips on his, and Jaijin closes his eyes as he commits the taste of Jiwon’s lips against his own to memory desperately, memorises the feel of Jiwon’s hair as he wraps his fingers in them, hood of his black winter coat soft against his skin as it falls back, but neither of them can be bothered about the winter cold. In that single moment of - of  _ everything _ , of the culmination of every emotion that has built up between them, of every messy string of thoughts and of every sleepless night haunted by nightmares of one another, the world freezes - the watery rays of sunlight hang in their place between greyed clouds and the little creaks of the bridge below their feet go deathly silent and even the snowflakes halt in motion halfway from the sky to the snow-covered ground, he pushes away the nightmares that have built up in his subconscious, envisions the bridges and the too-large gaps between them lighting up in embers all around that bring them red-hot warmth even in the pale white of their winter surroundings. 

 

He kisses Jiwon and Jiwon kisses him like how they’ve wanted to for too long now, fingers gripping at one another’s skin or entangled in each other’s hair and lips pressed against one another’s saying all the words that they could not say aloud, and Jaijin distantly thinks that he never wants this moment to end even if he runs out of air to breathe and his lungs give up on him. 

 

But good things have a way of coming to an end, and as they part with half-gasps and drink in the cold air Jaijin lets his fingers brush across Jiwon’s shoulder one more time, the same time that he feels Jiwon’s fingers against his own cheek wiping away the little tear-like marks that the melted snowflakes have made. 

 

The world that stopped in time cruelly resumes, and the last weak flickers of sunlight go into hiding behind darkening clouds, the bridge beneath them lets out little whines and reminds him too strongly of the phantasmic bridges that lie between himself and Jiwon, and the snowflakes crash down upon the exposed parts of his skin stinging worse than a viper’s bite. Now the bridges are back, gaps too large to be closed, and he is burning white-hot in his own mental and emotional turmoil as he stares at Jiwon.

 

The silence falls once again, and he takes his time to drink in Jiwon’s features, from his forehead to his eyes to the slightly rosy hue on his cheeks to his lips. Dressed in all black against the otherwise otherworldly white setting, Jiwon is beautiful in the way that words cannot hope to describe, and at the same time he drives rents in Jaijin’s heart in the way that knives cannot hope to inflict.

 

Sometimes, Jaijin wishes that he cannot understand Jiwon so well - even in the silence, as he meets Jiwon’s hollow gaze, he can read every thought that crosses Jiwon’s mind, and as time passes it narrows down to one single thought that is too loud in the utter silence.

 

_ Won’t you tell me to stay? _

 

Jaijin knows that Jiwon can read him just as well (or even better, perhaps). He wonders if it is the same today as he stands, a pale grey figure almost blending into the woollen clouds and half-melted snow along the handrails of the bridge, fading away like photographs over time.

 

_ Hyung _ \- his heart is splintering in his chest, and he averts his gaze from Jiwon’s knowing that the latter will already have read the message written in every corner of his eyes,  _ you know I’m not good at saying things like those. _

 

_ None of us are. _

 

They’ve never been the type for sappy goodbye’s or tearful speeches, nor have they ever been the type to say things when they know that it wouldn’t do any good.

 

So when Jiwon turns and walks to the opposite end of the bridge, a black blur amongst blinding white (is it a blur because the snowflakes are disrupting his vision or is it because his tears are beginning to well up? Jaijin can’t quite tell anymore), he doesn’t turn back to say another word, no whispered goodbyes or broken apologies or thank you’s for all the times - 

 

\- and Jaijin doesn’t tell him to stay.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> i like to write sad things and jionjin was the first ship that popped into my mind, so this fic was birthed lol. hope you enjoyed!


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